The Vessels

by Anna Elias

  The Vessels

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Anna M. Elias

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission from the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  Cover Credit: Original Illustration by Justin Paul

  www.imdb.com/name/nm6302659/

  Cover design by MJC Imageworks

  www.MJCImageworks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-944109-09-7

  Published by Vesuvian Books

  www.vesuvianbooks.com

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  To Scott and Kayla, with all my love

  To being our best angels ...

  PROLOGUE

  The mountain lake roiled and frothed as a black vessel emerged from its murky depths. The craft’s forged metal skin had no visible edges. A green phosphorescent light trimmed the top, illuminating the rocky shore where a native chief, two adults, and four older teenagers watched from around a bonfire.

  Icy wind whipped across the lake and tugged at the heavy, bright wool dress of the native tribesmen who danced and chanted around the fire. Their voices and movements seemed to stir the flames higher and higher, sending sparks into the night air. An owl’s cry echoed as the ship settled into place on the churning surface. White light from the full moon swirled with flickering orange firelight and the ship’s green luminescence bathed the scene in an eerie glow.

  Sanjay Bindra heated his hands by the fire. Orphaned in Mumbai, he’d barely survived the streets and slums until the woman who ran an orphanage in this Himalayan range of northern India had saved him. She’d made him a Vessel, and had turned him into an integral part of a secret program that included this ancient, otherworldly, submarine-like ship.

  Metal clanked. His pulse quickened.

  Out on the lake, a narrow door slid up and a steel walkway extended to shore. A hatch spun open on top, its smooth wheel turning as if guided by invisible hands. The spinning stopped, the hatch released, and bright white light shot through the threshold. A large form cut through the beam from below. The movement shifted and grew, appearing distorted until a man emerged.

  Captain Hugh Benham stood tall and powerfully built, wearing an eighteenth-century Royal Navy wool uniform and topcoat. His eyes glowed like brilliant sapphires, and the wind tossed his thick, shoulder-length mane of black hair. A trace of jasmine filled the air.

  Another owl screeched, and Sanjay’s breath hitched. Captain Hugh stepped onto the plank and crossed the lake’s bubbling surface to greet those on shore. He clasped hands with the chief and the two women before turning to the four teens.

  He greeted Sanjay last. “Stay strong, Sanjay.” Caution tinged his smooth British voice. “The Spirit who chose you—this journey is his last.” He patted Sanjay’s shoulder and returned to the fire.

  Sanjay swallowed hard, wondering what this Spirit had done wrong twice before earning it divine forgiveness and this third and final chance. The bonfire surged as tribesmen drummed and danced, chanting faster, louder. Captain Hugh faced the ship. He closed his eyes and extended his arms.

  A familiar tremor shook the ground as four pearl-like balls of mist floated up from the hatch. They drifted across the plank and hovered by Captain Hugh’s chest.

  Sanjay dabbed sweat from his brow and tried to discern which one he would receive. He wouldn’t know which spirit had chosen him until the ceremony.

  “Who wishes to go first?” Captain Hugh asked.

  Four anxious teenage faces looked back. The woman who ran the orphanage had found the other two boys and the one girl alone in the world, each having been rescued from certain death, just like Sanjay. And though all four teens had the unique qualifications to become Vessels, only Sanjay’s strength, courage, and fortitude were renowned throughout the Vessels Programs. His heart quickened. Perhaps that was why this Spirit had chosen him. Or, more likely, it was why Captain Hugh had assigned this Spirit to Sanjay, to finally resolve whatever suffering or ills remained from its human life, and rectify them to achieve Elysium. If the Spirit failed again ... or if Sanjay failed ...

  No. He wouldn’t think about that.

  Sanjay shivered in the frosty air and stepped forward. Usually, he couldn’t wait to get these journeys started, but Captain Hugh’s words had cast a shadow. As he drew closer, his left leg burned and glowed where a distinctive, vine-like tattoo wound around his ankle. Captain Hugh, the chief, and one of the women encircled Sanjay equally from the front and sides. The tribal chanting crescendoed as one of the mists drifted closer to hover behind Sanjay’s back.

  The smoky mist expanded and grew into a shimmering light that matched Sanjay’s human form. When their heads aligned, both pairs of eyes flashed together like emerald jewels. Sanjay planted his feet and the Spirit pressed into him, slipping through his warm, thick sweater and the damp skin of his back until it disappeared inside his body. The boy’s nerves tingled, as they always did during this process, but something was different. This Spirit seared like hot ice where most warmed like heat from a campfire, and twisted his insides instead of settling into place. Another shiver shot through. Sanjay focused on his breathing as the mist expanded from his head to his toes, praying he would be strong enough to keep the Spirit in line and achieve its goal.

  The comforting heartbeat came first, followed by fluids gurgling through healthy pink tissues and organs. The Spirit shaped itself around dense, tight muscles that moved like meaty armor. This new body fit much like the flesh of his former self.

  He bent Sanjay’s arm, turned his head and lifted his feet, test-driving his control. The boy let him go only so far before holding back, using his experience a
nd strength to control the Spirit’s range. That must be why Captain Hugh had made him select this Vessel. The Spirit had been back twice before, in two other Vessels, and had been forced to leave both times before completing his journey. This chance was his last—either he got things right or he spent eternity in Elysium’s dark netherworld realm, The Lot.

  The Spirit’s sense of being human again returned with every bellow of the boy’s lungs. He made Sanjay sniff the fresh air and tuned his ears to the owls and the chanting. He peered out the boy’s eyes to soak in the lake, the moonlight, and the concerned looks from Captain Hugh and the chief, the only two beings in this program who knew who, and what, he really was.

  Heat from the bonfire warmed him through Sanjay’s skin and the boy’s neurons fired like lasers. Though guarded, the Spirit’s old human passions, fears, and fury were accessible again through the familiar chemicals and hormones that circulated in the boy’s arteries and veins. The temptation to use them would grow stronger the longer he stayed. The Spirit prayed Sanjay was, indeed, as seasoned a Vessel as he’d heard, to help him complete this journey before the urge to kill overcame him once more.

  CHAPTER ONE

  TAL

  The wind moaned like ghosts through the sprawling, abandoned steel mill. Tal Davis sat in her unmarked car on a dark, tree-lined hill above, staring into the night and waiting for the word to move in. The sweet smell of dogwood blossoms drifted through her open window, but it did nothing to ease the gnawing in her gut.

  Perched on the Monongahela River, this mighty mill had once belched its byproducts all over Pittsburgh’s Steel City. It had since become an empty industrial shell, a rusted and crumbling home to vagrants, criminals, and rats, which, in Tal’s opinion, were often difficult to tell apart. Leaves rustled on the surrounding trees, and cherry blossoms danced like puppets on invisible strings of air. She shifted in her seat, scrolling through music on her smartphone to bide time. Playing various songs at different times usually kept her calm, but not tonight.

  Tal stowed the phone and scanned the empty factory with her night-vision binoculars. She spotted movement and her skin prickled as three men emerged from a black, window-tinted BMW and snuck to a thick, slightly ajar steel door. Two men clutched duffel bags; all three carried guns.

  “Hello, boys,” she mumbled.

  The men looked around. Seeing no one, they pulled the door open. The rusted hinges groaned and metal grated across the concrete floor. They froze and glanced around again. Nothing happened, so they slipped through the narrow opening and disappeared inside.

  Tal pressed the mic switch on her headset. “Party started, Jake,” she said, her words soft but clear.

  “Wait for the buyers.” Her partner’s hushed voice vibrated in her earpiece. “We move too soon and Demmings will have our heads.”

  “Demmings isn’t here.”

  “There she goes again,” Detective Tucker Manning hissed in the headset.

  “Bite me, Tucker.”

  “That’s enough, you two,” Jake said.

  Tal was a good, honest cop who had worked hard and revered the job for more than nine years, but flashes of her husband’s and young son’s death still haunted on occasion, their burning car a metal hell she could never fully escape. Almost everyone but Jake worried that she still suffered the emotional fallout—Tucker and Chief Demmings most of all.

  “I’ll give you the signal.”

  Jake’s voice calmed her, and Tal leaned back against the cloth seat. It had taken a long time to allow herself feelings for Jake, even though he had made his affections for her known early on. She’d never imagined her heart opening again after the loss of her family, but Jake’s goodness had broken through and he’d shown her how to love again. The thought set her tingling. She would tell him that, too, when the time was right.

  Tal jerked up as two men broke from the woods, running toward the same metal door. They were clad in black and armed with assault rifles. Her insides coiled. “We got company.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know, but they got facemasks and AR-15s. We need to go.”

  “Wait.” Jake’s voice sharpened with worry. “Let’s see what they do.”

  “If they take out these dealers, we’ll lose two years of work.”

  “Stay put, Tal.”

  Everything in her screamed this was wrong, that whatever was about to happen had to be stopped before it started. The men disappeared inside.

  “Jake. We have to—”

  “Don’t.”

  Tal’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell you what happens.”

  “And here we go,” Tucker scoffed.

  “Tal. Stop.”

  Jake’s command fell on deaf ears. Tal crept from the car and checked her gun: a Glock her dad had given her when she’d graduated first in her class from the Academy. She’d carried it ever since for luck.

  Tal glanced up at the starry sky. Love you, Pops.

  She scurried down the grassy slope, her black clothes and dark skin blending into the night. She stole to the metal door, Jake hissing in her headset the whole time. She ignored him, leaned against the wall, and peered inside. Moonlight cut through broken windows, shining on rows of floor-to-ceiling beams, scattered piles of empty pallets, and a lopsided metal table. The three dealers were stacking measured bags of white powder on the table’s surface.

  Tal scanned for the gunmen. Where are they and why aren’t they firing? Her chest tightened. She forced a breath and keyed her mic. “Bad feeling just got worse.”

  Rapid footsteps surrounded her as Jake, Tucker, and Tucker’s partner, Dave, rushed in. Like her, they wore black clothes and bulletproof vests.

  Jake’s blue eyes smoldered. “You gotta stop this death wish, Tal. Every time the odds stack up, you rush in.”

  “It’s not that this time, Jake. I swear.”

  Tucker rolled his eyes. “Coulda fooled us.”

  Jake glared him to silence then put a hand on Tal. He leaned in, lips grazing her ear. “Your dying would kill me.”

  She looked away, afraid to reply and unwilling to consider such an ending. Not now. Not when their future was starting to take shape. Instead, she whispered, “Three dealers at the table. Two gunmen, both hidden.”

  “What are they waiting for?” Tucker asked.

  “Or who?” Jake added.

  Tal’s stomach churned.

  Jake swiped back a bead of perspiration. The gesture set Tal on edge. Jake never sweated. He was always calm and in control. She tightened her grip on the Glock and stole a look at the other two detectives. Tucker’s eye twitched at the corner. Dave exhaled. Her gut twisted tighter.

  Jake gave the signal, and all four stepped into position. Tal pushed the nausea aside and, on his count, they burst in.

  “Police. Hands in the air!” he commanded.

  The dealers froze where they stood, then two masked gunmen stepped out from behind steel beams and opened fire. A loud staccato of bullets whizzed past her head.

  Tal dove behind some old wooden pallets. Propellant burned her nostrils, as did the dank mold and dust from the room. She took a quick breath and checked her clip.

  She stood and turned to the closest gunman, stunned to see him wearing the same police-issue body armor. That second of pause allowed the gunman time to take aim, a wicked grin splitting his face. Tal aimed back, bracing for the hit, but someone shoved her behind the pallets as he fired. She landed on her face and banged her head on the concrete floor. Bullets shredded the air and someone cried out in pain. Tal peered around the pallets and saw Jake lying face-up in a growing puddle of blood.

  “Oh, God. No.” More bullets ricocheted overhead as Tal crawled to him. Gunpowder mixed with the coppery scent of blood shot bile up her throat. She swallowed it back, grabbed his vest, and wrestled his long muscular frame toward the pallets.

  His pants caught on a splintered edge, and she yanked him free as another bullet blasted the wood above her head. She heaved once more and
landed them behind the pallets, leaving a thick, red trail of Jake’s blood on the floor. She sat cross-legged and pulled his head and shoulders onto her lap. “It’s okay, Jake. I got you.” She felt something wet on the side of his head. Blood.

  “Oh my God. Please, Jake. Can you hear me?” Crimson seeped into her pants from holes in his neck and chest where armor-piercing bullets had punctured his Kevlar vest. “Jake?”

  “Hey, partner,” he rasped. Blood bubbled on his lips and he looked up at her from under half-closed lids. “You may have to hold down the fort for us.”

  “No. You’ll be okay, Jake. Just hang on.” She cradled his head, brushing aside a piece of blond hair.

  He reached up to stroke her soft brown cheek. “I love you, Tallon.”

  He showed no pain and Tal fought the urge to panic. Nerves shut off just before the end. “Fight this, Jake. Please ...”

  His eyes closed. His arm drooped.

  “No.” She clutched his vest.

  His head sagged in her lap.

  “Jake.”

  Voices filled the room as reinforcements swarmed in. “Police. Freeze!”

  The gunfire stopped. The acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder diminished.

  “Over here,” she yelled. “Officer down. Hurry.” Her lips grazed Jake’s ear as tears ran down her face. “Don’t leave me, Jake. Please.”

  A ball of mist floated up from his mouth. Tal jerked back, eyes wide, as it blanketed her with warm glowing light and a fleeting but powerful sense of peace. She blinked, and, when she looked again, the ball had disappeared. The serenity was gone. So was Jake.

  “Jake?” She shook him harder. “No. Please.” She clutched him to her chest, rocking and sobbing into his matted hair.

  “He’s gone.”

  Tal jerked up to find a paramedic stooped next to her, checking Jake for a pulse. Another paramedic stood nearby with a gurney full of gear. She hadn’t heard them approach, or move the pallets.

  One paramedic lifted Jake while the other helped Tal to her feet. He wrapped a blanket around her, but she didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel anything. Time blurred again the way it had when the car carrying her husband and young son burst into flames.